


My Silence, Always Within to Console Me

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Community: kink_bingo, Gags, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk just wants to have a little fun and try a gag, but it becomes more and hides all the things Kirk doesn't know how to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Silence, Always Within to Console Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lunesque**](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/) for being my beta and for help with the title.

Kirk is sprawled on McCoy's bed, a strip of cloth tied securely around his head, his fist slowly dragging over his cock, so when McCoy walks in, everything is perfect. Kirk wants to grin, can feel his mouth attempting to make the motion even though the gag cuts into the corners of his mouth.

He expects McCoy's characteristic scowl when McCoy stalks toward the bed. What Kirk doesn't expect is for McCoy to jerk off the gag, check his vitals, and then stalk right back out the door, tossing the strip of cloth onto the table on his way out.

Kirk blinks in confusion and slowly licks his dry lips. With a slow shrug, he settles comfortably into the pillows, closes his eyes, and strips his cock in quick, tight jerks. When he comes, hips thrusting off the bed and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he tries not to think about why he hears a very different, "Jim," in his fantasies.

~*~

The next day, Kirk manages to corner McCoy in the corridor. "Hey—"

"I'm busy, _Captain_," McCoy gruffly says, sidestepping Kirk.

But Kirk moves quickly and pushes McCoy into the wall. "C'mon, Bones, talk to me."

McCoy's eyes flash. "In the goddamn hall where anyone can hear us?" he hisses, and Kirk puts a little more distance between them so McCoy won't notice the swell of his cock. "I thought we were going for discreet, Jim."

Kirk grins; he can't help it. "Then my quarters, Dr. McCoy," he says with a wink. "We've got some things we need to discuss."

"I'm busy, Captain."

"My quarters, Dr. McCoy," Kirk repeats, still grinning. "Let's say 1800."

McCoy scowls, gritting out a, "Fine," between his teeth before pushing past Kirk and returning to sickbay.

~*~

McCoy is late; Kirk expected as much. McCoy's dedication to all things medicine is equal to Kirk's dedication to the Enterprise. When McCoy finally walks through the door, Kirk is fully dressed and twirling the loop of cloth he'd used as a gag earlier around his finger.

McCoy's eyes darken as he shakes his head. "What the hell is going on in that damn fool brain of yours, Jim?"

The corner of Kirk's mouth lifts into a smirk, and it makes McCoy sigh in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you to lighten up, Bones?"

"I know how to lighten up," McCoy says with a scowl. "With a bottle of bourbon and a book. Do you even know what you're asking for?"

Kirk can't help but give him a lazy grin as he leans back in the chair. "Yeah, hot sex."

On cue, McCoy's scowl deepens, his brows furrowing together, eyes darkening further.

Still holding that same lazy grin, Kirk casually continues, "It just felt like our sex might be getting boring." He watches McCoy's mouth move soundlessly, shaping the echo of his words. Kirk laughs and stands, sauntering up to McCoy and skimming his palms up McCoy's sides. "Lighten up, Bones."

McCoy's mouth clamps shut, lips thin and tight as he stares hard at Kirk. His voice is flat when he says, "You don't know what you're asking for."

Kirk just looks at him, his right hand sliding down to cup McCoy's groin, palm pressing against the outline of McCoy's cock. "I'm pretty sure I do."

"Do you know the risks associated with using a gag?" McCoy counters, all doctor as he snatches the loop of cloth from Kirk's fingers and primly holds it up like some lab specimen. Before Kirk can respond or even roll his eyes, McCoy is already starting in on a detailed lecture on everything that can go wrong in the known universe, starting with cloth gags. "—can absorb your saliva, which can lead to dehydration and an increased risk of choking—" Kirk grins and dips his head to scrape his teeth over McCoy's pulse. "—high risk of vomiting, which can back up into the lungs and cause asphyxiation—"

Kirk makes a noncommittal, "Mm-hm," as he slides his hands beneath McCoy's shirt, frowning when McCoy grabs his wrists and takes a step back. "So I might throw up on you," Kirk says dismissively.

McCoy holds Kirk's eyes. "No. It'll back up into your lungs. Have you ever seen someone choke on their own vomit?" Which makes Kirk wonder when McCoy's seen it and whether a gag was involved. "It's not a pretty sight—"

"I get it, Bones," Kirk sighs.

"Oh, do you?" McCoy holds up the gag again, waving it in Kirk's face. "You breathe through your mouth, Jim, so if you wear a gag and you can't get enough air through your nose, how were you planning on telling me that you can't breathe?"

Kirk laughs. "I don't know. Passing out seems like a good sign."

McCoy's eyes flash, his mouth settling into a deep frown. "Jim—"

Kirk hastily holds up his hands in surrender, immediately dropping his grin. "I get it. It's dangerous. There should be safe words. No problem. I'm a firm believer in safe sex."

"Signals," McCoy sharply states. "There should be a signal since you can't talk with a damn gag in your mouth."

Kirk arches a brow and leans into McCoy, his hands slowly roaming over McCoy's chest and biceps again. "I can do a signal." With a sultry grin, Kirk snags McCoy's bottom lip between his teeth. "So does this mean you're going to say yes?"

McCoy's jaw tightens, and Kirk rubs his thumb over the clenched muscles. "A ball gag would be safer than a cloth gag."

Kirk's face brightens. "That shouldn't be too hard."

McCoy's eyes shoot to the ceiling, but Kirk ignores McCoy's exasperation by dragging his lips across the stubble-roughened line of McCoy's jaw. "Signal, Jim," McCoy gruffly prompts, head tilting a little to the side to give Kirk better access to his neck. "I can't have the captain dying on my watch."

With a chuckle, Kirk draws back and holds up his hand, his fingers separating to form a vee. He laughs harder when McCoy's jaw drops.

"The Vulcan greeting?"

"Hey, it's a signal, isn't it?" Kirk smoothly counters.

And before McCoy can say anymore, Kirk drops to his knees, tugging down McCoy's pants. He effectively stifles whatever other protests McCoy was about to make by closing his mouth around the head of McCoy's cock. McCoy's hand fists in Kirk's hair, a moan rumbling up from his chest, and Kirk focuses on the smooth, slick texture of McCoy against his tongue. He has to open his eyes and look up into McCoy's face, tense now with pleasure.

Kirk doesn't take his eyes from McCoy's face because every time he closes his eyes, he can't help but lose himself in someone's else memories; he can't stop seeing and tasting and feeling the texture of another man's skin.

~*~

Weeks pass before Kirk is able to get the gag, but when McCoy walks through the door of his room, Kirk is sprawled nude on the bed, wearing the ball gag he managed to scheme out of a sexy Orion woman that reminded him quite a bit of Gaila. Kirk fists his cock, slow and tight, his eyes flicking up and down McCoy, who just stands at the edge of the bed and stares. He stares so long that Kirk thinks his friend has a voyeurism kink or he's going to back out the door again.

So Kirk decides some incentive is needed. He squeezes the head of his erection, his other hand smoothing up the firm planes of his stomach to his chest. He plucks his right nipple, pinching and twisting until it stiffens into a hard peak. He watches McCoy's eyes darken, lips parting as his fingers slowly curl into his palms, the pink tip of his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

_C'mon, Bones_, Kirk says with his eyes, with the slow glide of his hand as he works his other nipple, his hips thrusting into the loose grip of his fist. Kirk takes deep breaths through his nose, filling his lungs to capacity before slowly exhaling. Then, finally, McCoy undresses, brusque and quick, before crawling onto the bed. His fingers move around the straps of the gag, testing their tightness, readjusting, making sure the ball is secure between Kirk's lips.

"What's your signal?" he asks again, and Kirk obeys, unable to grin around the gag when McCoy grumbles something under his breath. "Breathe through your nose." Kirk nods, his free hand shifting to rub the length of McCoy's cock. "And don't try to swallow your saliva. It can hinder your breathing and increase your chances of choking." Kirk nods again, slowly squeezing McCoy's dick as McCoy checks the gag again. McCoy sighs heavily, grumbling something else under his breath, but then he's touching Kirk, who moans in encouragement, pushing into McCoy's rough hands.

McCoy's intent eyes are fixed on Kirk the entire time, and it makes Kirk's erection throb, his skin flushing from being the sole recipient of such focus. Kirk reaches for the lube that he'd set on the edge of the pillow and presses it into McCoy's hand.

"Don't be pushy," McCoy warns even as he takes it. "You're not in charge here, remember?"

The snappy comeback is stuck on Kirk's tongue, so he tries to convey it through his body, demurely lowering his eyes and relaxing into the pillows, open for McCoy's perusal and enjoyment. The corner of McCoy's mouth lifts into a crooked grin, and he drops his head, his teeth scraping over Kirk's collarbone, making Kirk clamp his hands around McCoy's arms as he arches, moaning for more.

At the first feel of McCoy's slick fingers smearing around his opening, Kirk's eyes flutter closed, and his mind begins traveling on quick tangents: Cold. What a great doctor McCoy is. The best. A friend. The number of lives McCoy has saved—will save.

Kirk opens his eyes and focuses on the expressions playing across McCoy's face, the quiet, gruff intensity as he slowly pushes one finger into Kirk until Kirk is rocking his hips, moaning around the gag.

"Damnit, Jim," McCoy mutters, but Kirk's fingers squeeze around McCoy's arms as he pushes his hips down again.

Kirk tries to remember to take even breaths through his nose when McCoy penetrates him with a second finger, stroking deeper. When Kirk feels McCoy brush against his prostate, he squeezes his eyes shut on a guttural moan, no longer caring about the way his saliva trickles down his chin and throat. What Kirk will become—already is. The mind meld with Spock Prime. Behind the dark of his closed eyes, Kirk sees all the memories of destiny and greatness flitting across his thoughts.

He opens his eyes again, fingers digging into the joints of McCoy's shoulders as he rolls his hips, pushing hard onto McCoy's fingers, and McCoy finally adds a third finger, stretching and curling them. Kirk and McCoy built this. Yes, the sex, the _great_ sex, but also this friendship, this _trust_, and while Spock is a competent first officer—again, the best—he and Kirk aren't friends. Not yet. Not in this reality that Spock Prime is attempting to—has already—shaped.

_" ... altered the flow of history ... Whatever our lives might have been, if the time continuum was disrupted, our destinies have changed,"_ Spock had said.

Kirk almost darts forward to suck and lick and bite at McCoy's mouth when he feels the head of McCoy's cock spreading him open, but then he remembers the gag, suddenly aware of the wet trail of saliva on his neck. He clutches McCoy's biceps, pushing his hips down with another muffled moan, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he relishes the fullness of McCoy inside him.

Kirk and McCoy; Spock and Uhura in this reality. _Trust._ In a different way from how Spock Prime and his Kirk trusted McCoy and Uhura. This is Bones; this is their future, however it progresses. Everything's changed.

Kirk hooks his ankles together behind McCoy's back, driving McCoy deeper, wanting him hard and fast. McCoy's rough hands fist Kirk's cock, pleasure spreading whiplash fast through Kirk's gut until his mouth is trying to form a name around the gag as he arches into another hard thrust, needing just—_Yes. Yes._

Kirk's chest becomes slick with his orgasm, tapered fingers pumping him until he's spent and shuddering, mouth still struggling to exhale—The dissonance when he opens his eyes is so startling that his heart stutters, and he almost does choke, but he inhales several short, quick breaths through his nose as he watches McCoy, whose head is thrown back on a groan, hips driving forward until he comes, his rhythm becoming jerky.

All Kirk can think in the silent horror of his own thoughts is: God_damn_it.

Everything's changed.


End file.
